Winds of Change
by Michelle167
Summary: A short one shot that follows several characters after the events of "This Christmas was Suprisingly Violent.


Winds of Change

Another short one shot following the events of "This Christmas was Surprisingly Violent". The ending is left pretty open ended but with the purpose of giving myself a little hope that Clarke's character can continue in some way. Surprisingly there are some light Handon/Holarke moments in this one if one reads between the lines. I didn't plan them. They just kind of worked themselves into the story.

I do not own Legacies.

* * *

Clarke let out a hacking cough.

"What the hell?" he mumbled.

He had never been sick a day in his life, but then again his body had never broken down either.

The last rays of the day slid through the crack in the door to the tomb. He had crawled in here for safety though he doubted the necromancer would bother to search for him. What use would he have for a zombie that was not a zombie?

His soul had snapped back into his body the moment the Necromancer had alleviated his borrowed body of its head.

"Probably not the result he was looking for," Clarke thought.

That was evident from the markings carved in his forehead. He winced in disgust as he self-consciously rubbed at them.

If his body had been behaving normally the marks would have faded by now. Even the nail marks he had clawed in his own face by his own hand still clearly ran down the side of his face.

"I must look like hell," he whispered. Not that his appearance mattered at this point. Sharp pains pierced into his side and at times it was all he could do to keep from screaming.

A fast death at the portal would have been preferable to this.

More of a vain attempt at self comfort than an effort to keep warm, He pulled what was left of his tattered jacket closer around his body. He could feel his ribs through the cloth. It had been several days since he had eaten.

"At least in this body." he thought.

He wished he had something for the pain...even something to alleviate him of his growing fear but unlike Hope Mikaelson he couldn't cast comfort spells or use magic to heal his body.

He thought back to the comfort spell Hope had cast when they had been in Malivore. He couldn't remember another time when someone had done something nice for him. He hadn't even asked for it. His shy "Thank You," had been a genuinely non-calculated reaction.

In fact he had spent more time with Hope Mikaelson than he had with anyone else in his existence except for his father. He rarely let people in. Why would he? The undesirables of this world were sent to Malivore, the dark pit, the place where monsters dwelt. He was Malivorian but not just any Malivorian...he was the one undesirable rejected by Malivore himself. It made him the least of the least in his own eyes.

Over the years he had done his best to hide that fact by keeping people at a distance. That distance also provided protection from anyone that might look at him with the same disgust in their eyes as he had seen in his own fathers. But Hope's eyes had been different. There was a light that played behind that steel hearted stare... one that made him feel just a little more than the least. Maybe it was only his imagination, but he had accepted it as real because quite frankly it was all he had.

So it was no coincidence when he was preparing to die that the only person he knew to call was Hope Mikaelson. She had to know the truth, that he didn't hate her. The truth spell had made the words easier but they still felt awkward in his mouth. He wasn't used to sharing his feelings with other people. And she had taken the time to listen...to spend the last ten minutes of his life with him. It had meant more to him than she would ever know.

"Probably meant little to her though," he thought.

Another sharp pain stabbed at his side and he doubled over in pain. He had let his thoughts run amok, adding the torment of his soul to the torment of his body.

"Enough" he whispered as pushed his thoughts of Hope away. Best to live in the reality of his current situation than to drift off into the folly of his imagination. it was time to accept the truth...this was his present and he was going to die alone.

* * *

Hope motioned for Landon to follow. She hoped she wasn't making a mistake. Just because Landon couldn't die didn't mean he couldn't get hurt. But he really needed some experience and Hope didn't think zombies would be too much of a problem.

"Over here," she whispered.

"Sorry, I don't have your werewolf hearing," Landon answered just a little too loudly.

Hope sighed. Abilities or not maybe Landon just wasn't cut out for this.

She stopped abruptly and Landon ran into her.

"Sorry," he apologized.

"Shhhh!" Hope waved her hands.

Tilting her head, Hope listened intently. It wasn't what she expected to hear.

"What is it?" Landon whispered.

"Breathing."

"Breathing? Do zombie's breathe?" Landon asked incredulously.

"I don't think so," she answered.

Hope grabbed Landon's hand and pulled him forward as she approached the tomb. Whatever was in there they would face it together.

* * *

Skin and bones and sunken eyes, the emaciated figure sprawled on the ground was barely recognizable. It's chest rose gently with each rattled breath. Hope recognized the wound on the side of the face. Clarke had placed it there himself. The one on his forehead was new however. She recognized it too. It was the same mark they had seen on the zombies.

The portal was closed. Ryan Clarke should be dead. This could be nothing more than a husk of his former self.

"But then why was it breathing," she wondered.

"Is that?" Landon started.

"Yeah, I think so," Hope waived him to silence.

Carefully, she approached the figure. Reaching tentatively, she nudged its foot. Its eyes flung open reveling white it the midst of the dirty gray that now dusted its face.

"Hope?" it cracked.

"Oh God...the Zombie can speak," Landon uttered.

The eyes focused on Landon, "Not a zombie, moron...just dying...slowly" The words came with great difficulty.

Clark swallowed to try and bring any moisture to his mouth to make talking easier. Perhaps he would have an audience for his final hours after all, unfortunately that audience would include his little brother.

Staring at him, Hope felt the conflict rise within her. This was her enemy and yet again it was not.

He had almost killed her when he attempted to steal her body. The fury and rage she saw on his face at the time had caused her to conclude that he honestly hated her. Less than 24 hours later he had confessed to her that he didn't hate her...that he was jealous of her...of what she had. How was that supposed to make her feel? He pushed her buttons with ease and she danced to his tune despite her best attempts at resisting.

The phone call had been different. She had been able to relax; No defensive walls were needed for emotional protection. Clarke was going to die. And the conversation had been natural. But wasn't that there from the beginning despite the animosity? She had found herself on more than one occasion revealing things about herself to him that she hadn't revealed to her closest of friends. Maybe it was because he was in no position to judge her.

"Unlike Landon," she thought. She loved Landon...she really did, but he simply didn't get that sometimes things weren't just black and white.

"It's not about how I feel...it's about doing the right thing."

Those words had stung Hope when he had said them. She knew they belonged to someone who's moral compass was far above her own. She simply wanted to know how he felt...if he still loved her...if he still cared and he had made her feel like she was less than nothing. She grimaced as she thought of Landon's sense of right and wrong. How would he have seen her family? How would he have viewed her father?

In most people's eyes Klaus Mikaelson had been the villain. She was sure Landon would have seen him the same way. But he wasn't a villain to her...he had been her savior...her hero...a loving father who would do anything for his little girl. And his absence had left a hole in her heart.

Hope fought off the urge to cry lest the Malivorian brothers mistook her emotion for the current situation. Not that she did not feel for Clarke. She would have been heartless not too, but she didn't want either of them to read more into it than what there was.

"We know the portal is closed...we assumed you went through...how did you wind up back in your body?" Hope asked.

Clarke awkwardly made a slow motion with his forefinger across his neck. "Necromancer," he managed.

The mention of the necromancer brought a chill to Hope. She had hoped that they would never have to deal with him again. The last time had almost broken her emotionally.

"Zombies" Hope whispered as she shook her head. It all made sense. How could they have missed it? Of course all the zombies were coming from the Necromancer. Who else could it be?

"Hope...Dr. Saltzman needs to know," Landon interrupted her thoughts.

Hope nodded in agreement.

"You need to help me get Clarke back to the school," she said.

"What? Why would we take him with us?" Landon said in a hushed tone as he leaned into Hope's ear.

"Because we're not leaving him," Hope responded.

Landon looked back at his brother who for the moment seemed lost in his own thoughts.

Grabbing Hope by the arm, he pulled her outside the tomb.

"Hope...he tried to steal your body...heck he tried to steal mine for Daddy dearest. He's not a good guy. Why would you even attempt to help him?" Landon glared at her.

Hope could see Landon's sense of black and white at play. He wasn't weighing the options or looking at the advantages or disadvantages. He simply saw Clarke as the bad guy...someone that should not receive their help at any point in time.

Perhaps she had seen it that way as well back in Malivore.

"I can't lie, right? So you know I'm telling the truth when I say that if you help me go back, too, you'll never see me again.  
I promise." Clarke had pleaded desperately.

Even under the truth spell she had ignored his words. She had just left him there.

Had she been just as uncompromising then as Landon was being now? Or had it been something else?

Leaving Clarke behind had only made matters worse. Furious, he had sought revenge.

"Was it really revenge?" she wondered.

Hope recognized his desperation to save himself. She could see it even more clearly now as she saw the condition of his battered body. He had been fighting for his life the only way he knew how...through manipulation and deceit. She didn't condone it, but she did understand it.

"Would any of it have happened if she had just brought him with her? She couldn't risk making the same mistake twice.

"I know what he did Landon," Hope laid her hands on Landon's shoulders and looked into his eyes, "I know."

"It's settled then?" Landon said hopefully.

Hope shook her head. She had to think quickly for a logical reason...any reason that Landon would accept.

"Look, Landon...Clarke is a bevy of information about Malivore. We may need that information in the days to come. If we can help him long enough for him to help us then it's a win. And as far as being dangerous, I don't think he's in any condition at this point to do anybody any harm...bad guy or not."

Landon's jaw hardened. It wasn't the response he had anticipated.

"You know I'm right," she continued.

"Right isn't always right," Landon countered,"this simply isn't a good idea."

"Landon." Hope pleaded with her eyes.

He could hear the finality in her tone. She had already made up her mind and was not looking for his permission.

He sighed in frustration.

"What, Hope? Why are you asking me anything? It's obvious you've already made up your mind!" he shouted.

"You know I'm right!" she returned.

Landon calmed himself. His brother was not worth arguing over.

"Fine...we'll do things your way," he agreed, "but I just want one thing."

"Anything," she answered.

"Let me have a few minutes alone with my brother." he requested.

Hope resisted the urge to ask why.

She had won this round. She didn't want to jeopardize the victory with further arguing.

"Fine," she agreed, "just don't take too long. We need to get back to the school."

* * *

Landon took a deep breath as he forced himself to look at his brother. Except for the marks on the side of his face that exposed his true nature he looked fairly human, or at least like a very sick human.

"So this is why you tried to steal Hope's body," Landon said as he nodded towards Clarke's emanciated vessel.

"Very observant of you brother," Clarke replied sarcastically, "You'd make a great detective."

Ignoring the remark, Landon continued, "Hope also told me what you did to survive...the monsters...the people."

Clarke winced. He hated his father...he hated what his father had made him, but he hated even more that he had resorted to the same measures his father used to survive. He simply had no choice at the time.

"Yes...to survive," Clarke chose his words carefully, "it worked for a short time."

"Then you lied to me didn't you." Landon stated calmly.

"About what, brother," Clarke practically spit the word "brother" out of this mouth.

"About all that hogwash about Malivore's creations having none of his abilities. He absorbs monsters...you absorb monsters...isn't that one of his abilities."

Landon wanted to expose his lies. If he couldn't be trusted to tell the truth, what good would it be to take him back the school. Nothing he would tell them about Malivore would be reliable. He needed to show Hope what he really was.

Fear rose from within Clarke. The physical need to consume had hit him like a ton of bricks. Honestly, it had been more than the need to survive, he had been driven to do it. When he had realized his body could consume the same as his father he had been as shocked as anyone. He had thought it was the answer to his untimely predicament...that it would allow him to restore his failing body. And it had worked for a short time...but that time had eventually run out.

"Why would I lie to you? As far as I was concerned Father was going to take possession of you. You wouldn't have remembered anything anyway so why lie?" Clarke stated calmly.

The words slammed into Landon like a ton of bricks. It made sense, but how could he give up so easily.

"Then how can you explain your ability to absorb?" he continued.

"I don't know...honestly, I don't...it just happened," Clarke answered defensively.

The air went out of Landon's sails. He could see the confusion in his older brother's face.

"He doesn't have a clue," thought Landon.

Landon let out a loud sigh. There was no way out of this. Hope would indeed get her way even if he thought it was beyond dangerous.

"Hope wants to take you back to the Salvitore school." Landon blurted out flatly.

Clarke glared at him, "Who said I wanted to go."

Landon could feel the animosity in Clarke's voice. Landon was the chosen one and for some reason Clarke equated that with their Father's love. It didn't feel like love...for someone to want to possess you and discard you like you didn't matter. He wondered what had warped his brother's sense of understanding in such matters of the heart.

Regardless, Clarke's resistance to accompanying them made Landon feel as though he had the upper hand. He was at least going to get to force his brother to do something he didn't want to do.

He grinned at his brother victoriously, "Who said you had a choice?"

* * *

Alaric Saltzman felt as though Hope had dropped a ticking time bomb in the school's basement.

Due to the spell cast by Hope and his daughters, Ryan Clarke lay motionless on the cot within his cell. He looked harmless enough.

Ric let out an anxious sigh.

"Looks can be deceiving," he thought.

Despite that, Ryan Clarke, living up to his appearance, had not been much of a challenge. He had easily been bested by the students of the Salvitore School.

The headmaster felt a twinge of pride.

He smiled a little despite himself. The kids were learning how to cope with their unusual reality. It made him feel as though the school was really making a difference.

Alaric glanced at Agent Clarke's face. Looking at him no one would guess that he wasn't human especially with the illusion spell that hid his scarring. He didn't even have any special abilities as far as Dr. Saltzman had been able to determine. Still, Alaric felt unsettled.

Hope believed that Clarke was dying, that his body was breaking down. Alaric Saltzman was not so sure. The guys DNA was all over the place. And it appeared to be shifting. The changes in the profile from the Malivore pit to the one taken at the bar in town had been very subtle. But the sample he had sent in shortly after they had brought Clarke in had shifted miles from his original profile.

He seemed to be changing, rather than dying. But into what?

Ric swallowed hard. Vampires, Werewolves, and Witches were easy. Even the monsters from the Malivore pit had myths from which they could glean information. This was different. Clarke was a Malivorian creation...an experiment without a blueprint. If a monster emerged from this transformation, they wouldn't have any idea how to deal with it.

He had been careful to keep his suspicions from Hope. After what she had told him about Malivore he didn't want her feeling responsible in case everything went south.

"My presence in Malivore changed it somehow," she had said.

How could he tell her that her contact with Clarke in Malivore had changed him too...that she was the catalyst that was making his DNA shift?

Perhaps it was a stretch but at the moment it was the only thing that made sense. The idea consistently nagged at him.

And what about Landon? Was she affecting him as well? Or were the differences between him and his brother enough to make him immune?

"Too many unanswered questions," he thought, "and no way to answer them."

Alaric turned to leave. He was late for class.

He glanced back one last time.

"Whatever you become, if you're a threat to this school, these kids,...,my daughters...I'll be ready...I'll do whatever I need to...to take you down," he whispered.

And with that Dr. Alaric Saltzman left the basement.


End file.
